The Afterlife
by mon-petit-pois
Summary: "As we watched down on Ziva together, I realized something. I never knew her at all." No Character Death.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: okay this sort of came to me in a dream. Saleem will_ definitely_ seem out of character but there is a good reason for that. I think this may have been inspired (not sure, cuz it was a dream) by Surrounded by Death by my good friend **ninjaintraining01 **(I don't normally read supernatural stories but hers is _really_ good!) I reread it before bed last night, so I think that may be why I came up with this...:) so please just read and tell me what you think. It will probably have one more chapter. I have _so_ many things I wanted to say in this, but wasn't sure how.

Disclaimer: my mom keeps telling me to be patient, but really, how long does a heist take? They should be back by now, _with_ NCIS...:) jk

There is a place. A place you go after death. No one knows where it is, no one knows how it exists. But it does. It matters not if you lived a good life, or an evil one. Everybody has good in them, but in some it is harder to find. The Place is somewhat of a heaven, but not what I had imagined. The Place is where everybody goes, where the good in everybody goes. The bad gets sent somewhere else. I don't know where, nor do I care.

Everyone here is good, completely absolved from sin. In my case, I realize that sin was quite great. I had let myself get carried away. _Very_ carried away.

Now, looking back on my life, I am ashamed. All of the people I have killed, all of the lives I have ruined, seem to haunt me.

But there is one in particular. One woman, one woman that I thought I knew. I was convinced she was unloved, that there was no one in the world who would come for her.

I was wrong.

It turns out, she_ has _people who love her. People who would go on some crazy suicide revenge mission for her. The man, Anthony I believe his name was, had said to me "You have thirty seconds to live, Saleem." Being the confident man I was, I had laughed. I had told him he was lying.

Next thing I knew, I was lying with a bullet hole in my head.

It feels like a different me. I am different. I have changed, for the better. But that woman, she had caused my death. Many had tried to kill me before, and all had failed. Except her friends. They loved her so much they got captured on purpose just to avenge her.

I met a woman here. She sought me out. She told me her name was Kate. When I asked her what she wanted, who she was, she told me she was a sort of... guardian angel. Of course, she didn't have wings, didn't have a halo, but she told me she had committed her self to watching over someone.

That someone was Ziva David, the woman who I had tortured, raped, and ruined the life of.

I expected her to hate me. Instead, she showed me something. She showed me Ziva, what she was doing at the present time. This woman had always intrigued me. Never before had I met someone so loyal. She wasn't able to survive because of training, she survived because she was loyal to her people at NCIS. She would die before she betrayed them. As we watched down on Ziva together, I realized something.

I never knew her at all.

In the three months I had spent with her, I had only ended up knowing a couple things. One, her name was Ziva. During three months of torture, that was all I was ever able to get out of her. Two, how she reacted to different types of torture. And three, I knew every inch of her body, except her mind. No, her mind was the thing I longed to gain access to, but never could.

I had never known how she loved the rain. How her favorite flowers are daffodils, and her favorite movie is the Sound of Music. I never knew how much she loves Berry Mango Madness smoothies. How well she sings. That she is a Scorpio. That she plays the piano. I had never known that the people who came to get her from me, thought she hated them.

Looking down on Ziva, I see what she is really like. I had never knew anything about this woman, but I am so curious. She is the one who caused my demise, and I want to know more about her.

But what I see at night breaks my heart, or what little left there is of it. She tosses and turns, she whimpers and screams out for me to stop. _That_ is what kills me, hearing her begging me.

And I know I do not listen. I never did.

"See what you have done to her?" Kate said, her voice soft, looking up at me. My eyes are full of compassion, and sorrow. I know Kate can feel my remorse. Watching this woman, my _victim,_ I realize that just because her friends killed me and took her home, doesn't mean her torture is over. I had comforted myself with the fact that she would soon forget me, but I know now that isn't true. Watching her struggle with invisible bonds in her sleep, I realize that even though that bad part of me may be gone forever, a part still lives within her. She will always remember me as the cruel man who tortured her nearly to death.

I need to help her. That is all I can think about. I can't just sit back while a ghost of my former self is torturing her again.

"What can I do?" I ask Kate, practically begging. The remorse I feel is unfathomable, inexplicable, and it gets worse with every passing second.

"Tell her you are sorry. Go into her dream," Kate suggests. I look at her like she is crazy.

"You can do that?" I ask baffled.

"If you choose to watch over her for the rest of her life, you can. I have too many people to protect, Mr. Ulman. My family needs me. Please, watch over the team for me. You owe it to them," she reminded me. I sighed.

"Okay, just tell me how to stop this," I request, becoming more desperate with every scream I can hear escaping Ziva's mouth.

"Just concentrate on infiltrating her dream. Play your part. Do whatever you can," Kate says, but she is walking away and I cannot hear her anymore. Sighing, I shut my eyes, focusing on entering Ziva's dream. All of a sudden, I am not there anymore. I am back in Somalia, and I am in front of a heavy wooden door. I hear screams coming from inside, so I open it up and I see my men, piled on top of Ziva's trembling injured form.

"Get the _hell_ off of her!" I yell. My men look up, surprised. They were about to object, but followed out at the orders I gave. Once they were gone, I slowly inched closer to the shaking figure in the corner. It scared me, to think I had done this. _No, it wasn't you. I was a different part of you, which is gone now,_ I say to myself. Gently, I sit up against the wall, and reach out to her. She flinches when I touch her, but that is to be expected. I softly carress her cheek, and brush her hair out of her face. She refuses to look at me, but instead she just stares into space. I know she is expecting a blow.

I can't take this.

"Ziva, I am so sorry," I say, trying to get through to her. It works, her head swivels to look at me.

"What?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"I am deeply sorry, for all of this. Everything looks different, in death. Every time I ever hurt you, I am sorry for it. I had hoped that because I was dead, you would forget about me, but I see that that is not the case," I sigh. She looks at me, obviously confused.

"How could I forget about you? Because of you, no man will ever want to touch me again! I am filthy, marked!" she cried, lifting up her tattered shirt to reveal the S I had branded into her hip. I bury my face into my hands.

"Please, try to forget."

"That is easy for you to say! I had permanent reminders, all over my body! I can never wear a bathing suit again, thanks to you! And everybody in D.C., God they are all _insufferable_! I can not take two steps without them asking if I am okay!"

"They care about you, that is not a crime," he pointed out. "You are lucky to have such people."

"This is a dream, is it not? That means it is not real."

"Just because it is a dream, doesn't mean it's not real," I said, desperate to make her forgive me. This All-Good Saleem I have become is blowing my mind. Never before had I been so compassionate.

"Dreams are not real," she insists.

"Could you have dreampt this up?" I ask. Before she can respond, I am fading out, and I am back in the Place, and Ziva is in her bed, woken up and sweating.

I know that I may have to do that many more times before she is healed. But I know I need to heal her. I am responsible for her, and her team's, safety.

Because I owe it to them.

TBC

A/N: please please review, if u liked it. No flames please, I am just testing waters with this. The idea of having Kate be Ziva's guardian angel of sorts sort of just came to me. Yeah I know it would probably be Tali or someone, but I wanted it to be Kate, at least for this.


	2. Chapter 2

The next night, I do not wait such a long time to invade her dream. I don't want to hear her screams again. I can not believe I had ever enjoyed hearing someone's agony.

This time, her dream is different. This time, it is _me_ on top of her, _me_ violating her. It is strange watching yourself. There were_ two_ of me now, the evil me, and the new, better me. The evil one was smirking, laughing as she cried out in pain, tears sliding down her cheeks.

"Tell me! Tell me _now!_" the old me insisted.

"Please, I do not know anything! Please, Saleem! Stop!" she screamed, her voice cracking as it escalated an octave. Hearing her scream made my blood boil. I ran as fast as I could across the cell, throwing me (how many times do you get to say _that?_) off of her. She gasped when she saw me.

"Do not, please," she begged. I crouched down beside her, pity in my eyes as I wiped away her tears.

"It's okay, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," I promised, stroking her cheek calmingly. I could tell she was bewildered at how I was acting.

"What the hell do you want from me?" she asked, swatting my hand away.

"Just wake up. I'm not going to hurt you, you are back home. You aren't in Africa anymore, Ziva, wake up."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Because I owe you," I replied, as she started to fade out and wake up.

And I was back.

My day consisted of doing nothing but watching over Ziva and her team. I really had nothing to do, except that. I noticed that a couple times, she flinched when someone made contact with her, but other than that she remained composed. The bravery of that woman never failed to shock me. Her walls remained almost perfectly in place when she was in public. But at home was a different story.

For the next few weeks, I would enter her dream the second I saw something that could be constituted as a nightmare. Most of the time, I would interrupt whatever tortures she was enduring and hold her while she calmed. Sometimes, we talked.

"Tell me about Tony," I suggested one night. But I quickly regretted it when she began to shake. "No, I didn't mean it like that, it was a suggestion, a conversation starter, if you will," I assured her. I knew she must have thought I was trying to get information out of her. "Ziva, you aren't in Somalia anymore, and I am dead. I can't use this against you." She nodded.

"Tony is my partner, he has always had my back. Even when I chose not to let him in," she said, sighing.

"What do you mean?"

"He killed my boyfriend," she sighed. My brow furrowed.

"He was jealous?" I inquired.

"Yes, he was jealous, but that is not why he killed Michael. Michael was on a mission, assigned by my father, to play me. He wanted me back in Israel."

"Your father?"

"Director of Mosad, and the reason I ever showed up at your camp in the first place. It was suicide, and he knew it," she said, sadly. I looked at her weirdly.

"Your father sent you to me to die?" he asked, shocked. "And the _Director_ of Mossad? Oh yah, good old Eli," he said, remembering.

"You knew him?"

"Knew _of_ him."

"Oh."

"But I had no idea he was your father," he replied. Then, suddenly, he asked, "If you don't mind me asking, how did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Stay silent all those months. How did you manage it?" I clarified. She took a breath.

"My father was never a father to me. But Gibbs was. Gibbs was like the father I never had," she said.

"My killer?" I asked, wanting to be sure. She nodded, but showed no remorse. I don't blame her.

"My team at NCIS has become the family I never had. After Tony killed Michael, I went back to Israel. That was when my father sent me on the mission to kill you. I left them. I betrayed them. I was so mad at Tony, I decided to stay behind. I wronged him in so many ways, and yet he came for me, on some crazy suicide revenge mission. I do not deserve their loyalty. But as I approached your camp, I realized that leaving was a mistake. Tony would never do anything to hurt me. I knew they probably hated me, but I was not going to betray them," she explained.

And so went our conversations. It was strange for her, I knew. She probably thought she was imagining the whole thing. But she wasn't.

I had grown attached to her. I had grown attached to her team. Watching them was like having your own reality TV show. Tony and Ziva's antics amused me to no end, and watching them, I knew that their relationship was much more than a partnership.

Not that they would ever admit that.

I liked to think she had begun to trust me. My ultimate goal was to rid her of the nightmares completely. I knew that that meant I would have to stop entering her dreams every night, but for her, I would sacrifice.

TBC

A/N: I have to go do some stuff, so this is short sorry:( but thanks to JPotterWeasleyGranger, earanemith, and 1TIVAfan for the great review! Please review this one, too! There will probably be one more chapter. Thanks to all!


	3. Chapter 3

Her nightmares have worsened, and it is no big question as to why. The memories of this horrid summer that she has so carefully buried are being dredged back up, all for the sake of an investigation. From what I can tell, a marine is dead. This marine was traveling with Ziva's team when she came to kill me.

And that marine did not drown when a ship went down. No, he was shot, in the head, execution style.

The problem is, Ziva isn't just _part_ of the suspect list. She _is_ the suspect list.

The memories have become too much for her, I can tell. She has been proven innocent, but I can tell reliving it for the sake of paperwork is take effect on her. Plus, she has to deal with her father's bullshit. I am just glad they didn't have her relive what … what _I_ did to her. Admitting that it was _me_ who did it still hurt.

But that night, I realize that even though she never said anything about what I did to her out loud, she still is feeling it. Her nightmares are as vivid as I have ever seen them, and I have to fight my way though my _own_ defenses to get to her. I soothe her as she sobs, until her small malnourished frame stops shaking and her ragged breathing becomes somewhat even. As she calms, the men hurting her disappear, and the walls around her change. The scene changes as she becomes more aware that no one is hurting her. We are now no where in particular, surrounded in a warmth and comfort completely opposite to that of her cell. Her wounds have healed, her naked body clothed once again. I continue to hold her, content that she is letting me do so.

"Are you okay?" I ask. She nods, breathing deeply.

"I will not deny that today was... trying. But I relive it nearly every night in my dreams, why should this be any different?" she asks.

"Probably because when you talk about it, you are confiding in other people. It is difficult enough doing it from your own choice, but when you _have_ no choice but to tell people, and know it is going on the record..." I say, supplying a plausible answer. She looks at me, twisting in my arms.

"You are right," she replies, smiling at me. I am glad that I could help her, "I do have... trust issues. Not just since Somalia, but forever. It was drilled into me. You can never trust anyone. I... I do not want to trust anyone with what happened to me. It is too humiliating. They will never look at me the same," she sighs. Guilt flashes in my eyes, which doesn't escape her notice.

"I..." I begin, but she interrupts.

"Do not say you are sorry. You have said it far too much recently, I do not need to hear it again," she tells me.

"I do not expect you to forgive me. If I were you, I would hate me," I reply, "Hell, I _do_ hate me. I hate the old me."

"You are a different person now. You have already explained to me why, and although it may seem far fetched, I have had stranger dreams. You are not my tormentor anymore, but my comforter," she lets me know, which brings a smile to my face. I am glad she is beginning to disassociate me with Somalia. Just the fact that her dream is no longer in Somalia is proof enough.

"Ziva, do you have post-traumatic stress disorder?" I ask, out of the blue. She looks at me funny.

"I have no clue. I do not self diagnose, I do not have nearly enough knowledge of it. I have been tortured before, Saleem," she reminds me. But I never knew that. Who had tortured her before me? Was this familiar waters for her? 

"You have?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

"I had been captured before. I have been tortured, hell, torture was even part of my training. We never knew when they would take us, but as the grand finale to our training they would have fake terrorists capture us, and torture us for information on Mossad. If we lasted a day, they would send us out into the world. If not... well no one knows what happens to the ones who fail," she explains to me.

"But this... this was the worst?" I ask, seeking confirmation. She nods, and lays her head back against my chest.

The following nights always start the same. There is no longer anyone torturing her, but she is always alone, naked, and trembling in a dirty, dimly-lit, cement block cell. I always come in and hold her until her dreams take other paths, and I leave once she is calm again. This went on for months.

One day, she and Anthony get orders. They must go pick up a witness in Paris, and escort her back to NCIS. I can see this turning out... interesting, to say the least.

She falls asleep on the plane, and the minute she does I am there. I don't want her to feel embarrassed when she wakes up. Normally, she thrashes about in her sleep, and I know she would not want this to happen in a public place.

So I soothe her for a few minutes, before her dreams take a different path. I smile when I look down on her sleeping form from above. She has come so far.

When they get to the hotel, I almost laugh at the fact there is only one bed. I see it as a sign, but Anthony and Ziva simply see it as an inconvenience. They play rock paper scissors, they even flip a coin. But in the end, they end up together, in the king-size bed.

I decide I should sit this one out. I know Ziva needs to talk to someone besides me about this. I already _know_ what happened to her. I am dead, there is nothing to be gained by telling me anything. But she needs to confide in someone she trusts, or at least _should_ trust. I know that if she has a nightmare, Tony will be able to handle it. As much as I would love to, I can't keep invading her brain every night. She needs to be able to stand on her own two feet.

So I simply watch from above, as they fall asleep. It has been nearly two hours since Ziva fell asleep, but Tony has re-woken. He rolls over, and freezes up when he realizes her shirt has ridden up in her sleep, exposing her midsection. Even though I am in a different world, I don't fail to notice the anger that fills his eyes upon spotting the "S" branded into her hip.

"Saleem," he mouths, then clenches his teeth together. He is irate upon seeing what I have done to her, how I have marred her skin.

I know I deserve every bit of his anger, and then some.

He swallows hard, and gently wraps his arm around her torso, and falls back to sleep. I know my mission is accomplished, because of what I see in her dreams.

Because that night, Ziva does not dream of lonely cells, and desert sand. She doesn't dream of chains and whips and knives biting into her flesh. She doesn't scream, and doesn't struggle.

That night, Ziva David dreams of the Eiffel Tower. She dreams of the Louvre and the night lights of the city of love. She dreams happy thoughts, and I can see a smile creeping its way onto her face.

She is over Somalia, over the torture inflicted on her. She is content, she is enjoying life.

And I smile.

A/N: thank you to earanemith, ZivaFan2481, Pirate-Princess1, M E Wofford, and ninjaintraining01 for reviewing this time! You guys make me smile! Okay so I know that ever since I started this story, I have said there will be one more chapter. Well okay, there will be one more chapter. And maybe even more if I feel like it, haha. But the next one will be more of an epilogue:) so for the LAST time, I maybe-promise, there is one more chapter. Haha:) please review and tell me how I did on this! Love you all!


	4. Chapter 4

Epilogue

I watched as he tossed about in his sleep, far into the night. He was dreaming, but the dreams were not pleasant. His dream is horrible, terrible to watch, especially for me.

Because in his dream, I am holding Ziva down as I brand the letter S into her hip. I cackle with laughter and smack her when she screams. Tony is in the corner, bound to a chair, struggling to get to Ziva as she quivers on the floor.

And I realize that even though Ziva may be over what happened to her, Tony isn't. This is another one of my wrongs I must make right.

So I enter his dream, prepared for him to hate me for this.

At this point, Dream-Saleem has left, and Ziva has curled into the fetal position, a trembling heap on the cold stone floor. Tony is bound the the chair, anger and helplessness in his eyes. When I enter, he struggles even harder, thinking I have come to harm them.

"Stop! I will take her place, just _stop hurting her!_" he cries, as I approach Ziva. I ignore him, and squat down next to her, gently stroking her cheek. "_PLEASE!" _Tony cries. But he fails to say anything once he sees how Ziva reacts. He watches as Ziva looks up at me, and recognizes me as the "Good Saleem." She relaxes and curls up into my chest, letting me hold her comfortingly.

I am interrupted by Tony's confused voice.

"What the hell...?" he asked, finally managing to be free of his ropes. He gets up and runs to her, and tears her from my arms. I do not stop him as he grabs me by the throat and pins me to the wall. I do not need the air, so I do not worry about him killing me.

I am already dead.

"You are one sick bastard, you know that? How could you do that to her? What, do you just _enjoy_ hearing people's agony? _Enjoy_ scarring them for life, and breaking both their mind and their body? You are one twisted prick, that's for sure. You got off too easy, you should have died a slow and painful death for what you did to her! I don't know what you did that made her let you hold her like that, but it was probably some sick, twisted, backwards torture technique of yours! God knows you have a lot of them!" he screamed at me, breathing heavily. I just stand there and let him finish.

"Anthony, I hurt her. I hurt her in a way no human should ever hurt another human. But she has recovered. She no longer suffers from nightmares, and she has..." I trail off, unsure of how to explain to him that she no longer hears the name Saleem, and thinks of Somalia. I don't know how to explain to him our messed up hurt/comfort relationship.

"She has _what?_" he pressed, tightening his grip on my throat.

"I don't know how to explain it. Our relationship is complicated. I hurt her when I was alive, but now I am dead, and I comfort her. I _comforted_ her. Not anymore, though. She has recovered both physically and mentally from the torture. The nightmares are gone. Do you realize that tonight is the _only_ night, since she got back, that she hasn't had a nightmare? Sleeping in your arms seems to have that effect on her," I tell him. He looks as me strange.

"How did you kn-" 

"I am dead. I know a lot of things you don't. But Ziva is over Somalia. She is ready to put it in her past, and you need to put it behind you, too. Just be there for her, she needs you. And you need her," I finish. He smiles a little at the last part, before I am sent back to the Place quickly. Ziva had shook Tony awake.

"Tony! Are you okay?" she asked. Tony looked at her, puzzled.

"I just had the strangest dream..." he said, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Tell me about it," she requested.

"It was... about Saleem," he said. I saw the surprise in his eyes when Ziva smiled when she heard my name. He was even more confused.

"Why are you smiling?" he asks, wary.

"Tony, I am over Somalia. I have put it behind me, and you should, too," she said. Tony blinked in surprise when he realized that was almost exactly what I had said.

"I... Ziva, are you truly okay?" he asks, checking to make sure she wasn't just lying.

"I have never been better," she replies. A grin breaks out on Tony's face.

"Then I haven't either. I am happy for you," he tells her, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"Thank you, Tony. For everything," she says. He just nods, and lets her rest her head on his chest, and fall asleep.

…

I enter her dream that night, once more. She is dreaming nonsense colors, shapes, and faces. I decide that now is as good a time to talk to her as ever.

"Ziva," I say, getting her attention. She spins around.

"Hey."

"I am proud of you," I tell her, "You overcame the odds, you have recovered."

"Not without you, I would not have," she contradicts.

"You wouldn't _have_ to recover if it wasn't for me," I remind her. She just rolls her eyes. I embrace her, savoring the moment. "I will not bother you from now on. You need to be free to live your life," I say. She smiles. "I do not mind it too much, you give good advice."

"I will always be here if you need me," I remind her, "I will watch over you and the rest of your team for as long as necessary." She pats my shoulder.

"Thank you," she says, "For all of your help. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, I am grateful. If you ever want to talk... you know where to find me," she chuckles.

"I do get pretty bored." I laugh along with her. Ah, how far we have come, that we are able to laugh together. "Oh, and before I forget, Caitlin Todd told me to tell you 'Thank you for killing Ari.' She told me to tell you she knows how hard it must have been, and she truly appreciates it."

"Well you tell her that I am sorry I did not keep him from killing her, and that I am sorry I never go to meet her." she replies. I turn to leave. "Oh, and Saleem? Thanks for everything," she says, again. I simply nod.

"Go, Ziva. Go on and live your life to the fullest," I tell her. With one last reassuring smile, I disappear, back home to where I belong.

A/N: Ok, so I _think_ that's it! Please tell me whether or not you would like more, if so I might write more, but maybe in a separate fic. It will probably be about how Saleem helps Ziva through some of the events that happen in seasons 7 and 8. I will most likely end up doing it anyway, so if you like this and think you are up for more, I will post an author's note telling you what the name of it is once I get around to writing more! Thanks so much to Alidiabin, Abbi4Raie, WriterUnexpected, MTGZ, Ncisfan with Tivafever, M E Wofford, KTMrshall, and ZivaFan2481 for all of the awesome reviews! You guys _truly_ make my day!


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